


Scarecrows and White Wolves

by akimikono



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, Magic, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akimikono/pseuds/akimikono
Summary: Hatake Sakumo is a very powerful wizard living in a village surrounded by a forest. He is greatly respected by the civilians, but he is very lonely. One day he decides to do something no wizard should ever do - create life. It's the first time Sakumo has put his wants before the village's needs, and his fall from grace is swift. A terrible fire, a wintry forest spirit, and the rumors of dark magic complicate matters. Sakumo must decide whether it's more important to protect a village that has turned against him, or protect the one thing that is more precious to him than the world - his son.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfiction based upon the "precious straw child" drawing and wizard AU short story written by Asta (underscoreasta on Tumblr). I was graciously given permission to write this story, and even challenged to make it 100k words. Not sure if I'll get there, but we can try. 
> 
> So with as much love, kindness and wonder I can bestow upon you with my meager words - this is for you, Asta.

Hatake Sakumo was a very kind, very quiet man who resided inside of a village built in the middle of a large clearing surrounded by miles of dense, dark forest. He lived in a little stone hut with a thatched roof and crooked door. Behind the hut was a vegetable garden that he tended to meticulously. He had wild silver hair that stuck out in soft spikes, running down to his mid-back, and deep-set dark brown eyes nearing black that were always so full of warmth and compassion. Sakumo had no need for fancy clothes or nice things, so he was always dressed in a worn floor-length white cloak, the hem lined with embroidered red triangles that had begun to fray. A floppy hat was usually pulled over his head, though it did little to hide his mass of hair. His feet were often wrapped in soft-soled leather shoes tied with cord.

The entire village knew Sakumo and considered him to be the one true peacekeeper of the village, the one who looked after every civilian and made sure the borders were safe from outsiders - especially the Dark Wizards who had turned their backs on white magic and used their powers for evil. Despite being such a quiet and calm wizard, Sakumo was fearless and put his life on the line every time the village was in danger and could be fiercer and more ruthless than any Dark Wizard. This quickly earned him the title of “White Fang” - though Sakumo liked to pretend he got that title (and his unruly hair) from the stray dogs he sheltered inside his small hut. Each dog appeared in the fields outside of his home and each one seemed more magical than the last; something in their eyes and how they held themselves said they weren’t ordinary dogs. And his hair had gotten far more wilder and silver, the more dogs he housed.

As the years went by, the solitary mage did his customary rounds through the village, greeting the shopkeepers, instructing children, and helping those in need. A few more dogs trailed behind him and eventually gained a place sleeping on the hardwood floor in his hut in front of the fireplace. A dozen or so crows roosted in one of the large trees on the border of his yard, watching him with dark black eyes and letting out raucous caws when he shuffled past. He, unlike many other villagers, did not bother to shoo away the black birds since the dogs at his heels were enough warning to keep them out of his garden. If it was winter or spring, he would not mind if they rooted through the garden and found something to eat, since he’d have no precious crops to protect during that time, but autumn was time for harvest and he couldn’t risk losing a single bean to the troublemakers. However, he never went as far as some of the villagers who lobbed rocks at the birds and shouted curses - some human, some magical that they must’ve heard Sakumo or other passing witches and wizards use. As much as he didn’t want the birds eating his food, he didn’t feel that they were causing _that_ much harm.

But Sakumo’s view of crows and stray dogs and white magic and black magic were slowly turning into views far different than the ones the villagers held. Many people did not like the crows hanging around the village, afraid their crops would be destroyed and they would not be able to take care of themselves. They did not realized that most of the crows stayed only in the trees outside of Sakumo’s house since he asked them kindly one day to stay on his property only and they complied. They also did not like the stray dogs since there were many of them and they had sharp teeth, and dirty coats, and seemed very loyal to Sakumo. They did not realize that sharp teeth are normal for dogs and Sakumo bathed each dog once a week, once they were comfortable enough being touched. And as far as the villagers were concerned, any magic was bad magic. For all they knew, Sakumo could turn on them any day and use his powers against the village.

The moment Sakumo knew something had changed in the hearts and minds of the villagers was when a young mother scooped up her child in her arms and hurried to cross the street, avoiding eye contact with Sakumo. That same day, a teacher ushered her charges back into the school building before recess had ended; a bookshop owner held a key to the lock of his shop, watching carefully as Sakumo passed by; and a shopkeeper grunted out a hurried “Out of stock!” when Sakumo asked if his favorite tea - pomegranate and orange - was available. He was not sure why the villagers had suddenly distrusted him, but the thought of fear in their hearts saddened him greatly. Still, he was determined to serve the village as best as he could, regardless of their thoughts toward him - even if it meant doing everything possible to make them feel safe and uprooting his life to move to the outskirts of the village where people would only have to see him occasionally. So, that’s what he did.

Hatake Sakumo was a very gentle wizard and he always seemed to be putting other people’s needs before his own. It was something he was very good at. It was something that wasn’t very good for him.

 


	2. Creeping Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the few stories I have the plot outlined! I'm pretty excited to start writing and updating this regularly! My current updating schedule should be writing/editing for one week, and then updating the next week. So new chapters should (in theory) be posted once every two weeks! This is so I don't get too burned out and I'll still be motivated to write, as well as produce chapters I'm happy with!

Wind buffeted against the warped wooden door, sending the hut into a fit of creaks and groans. Windows rattled in their sills and a gust of air blew down the chimney of the wood stove, sending a plume of black smoke and red-hot ashes into the air. Sakumo hurriedly whipped his wand - a crooked twig of a magical object - into the air and gathered up all the coals, ushering them back into the fireplace as if they were small animals being herded into a corral. The logs crackled in the fire and spat out at him again, like a defiant child sticking its tongue out. Sakumo pointed his wand at the fireplace and the flames died down, leaving little more than a pile of logs glowing orange in the dark.

It was a rather chilly autumn night and most of his familiars - the family of dogs he had gathered over the years - were sleeping in a pile against the wall, each one wanting to be closest (but not too close) to the fireplace to keep warm. Despite all his efforts and magical prowess, Sakumo had a hard time keeping the little hut warm in the autumn; though it did keep itself insulted quite well during the winter, which seemed strange.

Something about the season between the vibrant green of summer and the stark dead of winter made Sakumo a bit nostalgic and a bit absentminded. Perhaps it was the leaves changing color, reminding him of the fleetingness of life. Or perhaps it was the farmers out in their fields, tilling the land and harvesting their crops to feed their families and the village. Or maybe it was something else.

In any case, his absentmindedness meant that he did not focus all of his magic into the wooden beams of the ceiling or the joints of the smooth walls or the planes of the uneven floor, allowing lots of heat to escape into the cold evening air between the months of September and November. But once the first frost came around, as it always faithfully did like a dog returning to its master, Sakumo’s mind was sharp once again and he flooded the cabin with his warm, silver energy that leaked out of his fingers and dribbled to the floor, worming over the woven rugs and around the legs of his chairs, sealing up any hole or crack to keep in the heat. The dogs never complained that they were cold, and they never demanded much of the old wizard. All they simply wanted was to be near him and for their bellies to be rubbed after a long day of hunting mice and chasing off crows. Sakumo was more than happy to supply the dogs with these simple things and would spend long evenings sitting in his chair as the dogs crowded around his knees, lapping at his hands lovingly and pawing at him to gain his attention.

Tonight, with the wind chill and the cooling embers of the fire glaring back at him from their metal prison, Sakumo had to wrap a patchwork quilt over his robes to keep warm. When he went to bed tonight in the straw mattress lying across the rickety metal frame, pushed into the farthest corner of the tiny bedroom, the dogs would follow and lay all around him like a living, breathing cocoon. But until then, he was cold.

Sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, Sakumo pulled his hat from his head and laid it on the ground beside him. He stared into the bright red light and stuck out one hand, urging heat to flood his body - though the fire spitefully refused to obey him.

“Don’t be like that,” he said softly, his voice weary but kind. “I didn’t mean it. You have the right to blaze as you want - you _are_ a fire after all, but you must be careful when you’re in a wooden house. You can burn it down, you know. And then where would I live? Where would _you_ live? It rains an awful lot in the fall. You’d be put out quite quickly.”

A few slender flames danced about the logs, as if watching Sakumo cautiously. He smiled gently and motioned for it to grow larger.

“Don’t be shy. One of these days I promise I’ll let you out and you can burn as bright and as large as you want. I promise.”

At that, the fire roared up again, the logs crackling and sap popping joyously. Sakumo laughed quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“See? It’s not so bad here. And you know I always keep my promises.”

One of the dogs - Akino - stretched and yawned, wriggling closer to the warmth of the fire, trying not to draw the attention of his companions. Bull snorted and shouldered him out of the way, lying in front of the fireplace with a solid _thud_ that disturbed the others. Soon they all gathered around him, finding a comfortable place close enough (but not too close) to the burning logs. Sakumo hummed and dropped his blanket from his shoulders.

“Tomorrow we have to see about foraging,” he said, closing his eyes in a moment of true weariness. “We should stock up before it’s too late and everything’s gone. We have one, maybe two, more good weeks of this weather and then the frost will come, and that means winter.”

A few of the dogs huffed in response and rolled over to face him. The smallest, Bisuke, trotted over and sat at his feet, leaning his head against the man’s leg. Sakumo leaned down to scratch the dog’s head, his eyes still closed.

“Tomorrow then. I have a list of items I need, and there are a few more things we should pick up for some of the villagers. I know that they can’t make the trek into the forest; it’s too dangerous. Are you alright going with me?”

All of the dogs let out soft grunts as a positive response and Sakumo slowly stood from the chair, reaching to unbutton his cloak.

“Thank you,” he said gently, shrugging off the robe and scooping down to pick up his hat and the quilt. He strode over to the front door and hung the cloak and hat on the coat rack mounted to the wall, making sure that the door was locked and the window was closed. “We should be off to bed, then. We have to get up early tomorrow. Thank you, Kasai-san. You may burn at your own desire now.”

The fire turned red, as if blushing, and flared up mightily in its tiny stove before settling into a soft row of flames. Sakumo made his way into the bedroom and soon the sounds of seven dogs’ paws scratching on the wooden floor echoed in the hut as they followed him. He sat down on the edge of the lumpy bed, giving a tired smile to the group of dogs and nodding at them.

“Tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes already closing to find sleep. “Tomorrow.” He laid down on the bed, pulling the threadbare quilt over himself and waiting patiently for each of the dogs to leap onto the bed, pace along the length of the bed until they found a suitable sleeping position, and then curl up against him. The heat of over half a dozen dogs radiated against him, sending more warmth through his heart than anything else had before. Still, that stinging loneliness of the dying autumn nestled inside his chest like a thistle, hurting no matter which way he turned or how shallowly he breathed. It was there, under his ribs, aching, reminding him of something he wasn’t sure he ever knew in the first place. That something was missing - he just couldn’t place what.

 


End file.
